


Fortuitous that you have no Soul, Khajiit

by SocksinSpace



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: AND the fact that I have several other fics to finish on here, Dubious actions and self-serving heroism, Enemies to Friends, Just realized i should make it clear that rajin-jos stereotypical speech has a reason behind it, Learning about one's heritage, Lich, Some elements found in mods will be applied, This is gonna be slow writing, Werewolves, accepting one's self, because I'm also writing this on tumblr, rivals in the same party, so this won't be finished for quite some time, the strange occurrences in the life of a very cynical Khajiit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:00:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24417763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocksinSpace/pseuds/SocksinSpace
Summary: When a Khajiit born and raised in Cyrodiil comes to Skyrim following after Caravans and Secrets finds himself entrenched in something much larger than himself, he turns to the aid of someone he saved from impending doom, but finds to be incredibly insufferable. They are now bound by the fate of the world, threatened by Dragons and dark plots.It's hard to save the world with someone when you hate each other.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. It all goes to Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna write this all on tumblr and then put the finished product here but I'm just too dang impatient. I'll be writing it in both places as it goes on.

“What whispers do you hear, Rajin-Jo my child?” A loaded question really, from a figure of shadows in the night. Not Mora, for there is no ink, no strange eyes poking from every crevice. No tentacles dripping with acidic sludge. No voice as thick and wet as tar, or all-knowing and smug. No. Just... a shade. Two eyes firmly where a face should be, red and seething with hate. Formless, a forked tongue white as snow poked from the void where there should be a stomach. Hate. Hate hate hate.

“The whispers.” It demands, the world around them warping. “The whispers, child, what do you hear? The voices, child, who begs you for mercy?”

“No-one” says the child, furred face muddy, eyes red and pupils yellow-rimmed. The teeth of this child, sharp. The claws like deadly daggers. His face, one of evil to all those who look upon a Khajiit and see only a beast with too much brain for their liking.

But a child nonetheless, and no monster with a human face could look upon a child and not care, just a little.

The screams echoed through the night as the stars, the moon, dissipated, and the shade lunged at the kitten with a bellowing screech. A plume of fire rained from the heavens, and tears streamed down the broken maw of his mother.

“The whispers, child, what do you hear? The screaming, child, who begs you for mercy?”

.

.

.

.

.

Rajin-Jo woke with a start, eyes wet and wide. He panted, heaving with every hard breath, a laborious task. “Why,” Said he, wiping tears from his eyes as he stood. “Would I dream of such a thing?”

Unsure was he, who dressed and ate within his room at the Inn. Helgen. A pleasant place, were you a human, or an elf with strict imperial ties. The people here were kind enough, cordial at best, and passive-aggressive at worst. Rajin-Jo... well, he was no human, and no imperial elf. He, was a khajiit. He'd never known the lands of Elswyer, not even born there, but he'd still get people asking him what it was like no matter how many times he said he was a Cyrodiil native by birth. Others were more tactful at the very least, but still clearly uncomfortable at his presence. The young boy who lived there in town was kind, and far less upset at his existence, but asked too many questions that gave the Khajiit man migraines.

A sigh escaped him, and the feline man rose from his seat, fetched ten gold from his pocket, and left the room. Quickly he handed the gold to the owner of the Inn, who seemed reluctant to accept even as he took it from the outstretched palm. “Alright,” Said he, voice low. “It's yours for a day.”

Rajin-Jo smiled pleasantly, teeth hidden and everything. “Indeed, it would seem so. This one is still quite weary from a long trip, yes? So I stay, just one more night.”

“Just the one?”

“Yes, khajiit grows tired of staying in one place when he has things to do, especially in a place with faces who mask their displeasure so poorly. Tsk tsk.”

“Then.. take your gold. The night is free, so long as you're gone by midday tomorrow.”

“Yes, of course. You will not miss my departure, nor shall anyone else this one suspects. Hard to hide a furry tail, yes?” Rajin-Jo sighed through his teeth, taking the gold back and electing to leave the Inn for the moment. He could, in truth, just stay inside for the day. However, the people had been informed of an execution to occur that day, and with the fact that General Tullius himself had come to the town the day prior, Rajin-Jo has an idea as to who was to be beheaded, and wished to attend the event. When it would happen? He wasn't sure, it all depended on when the carts arrived, but the locals had been whispering about what was going on. Seemed that they suspected who was on the chopping block themselves.

Rajin-Jo opened the Inn's door to the outside, squinting as the light hit his sensitive eyes. It was cold as always, sunny in spite of the chill, and the wind was blowing southward today. It would be a good day for a hunt. The khajiit sighed as the chilly wind hit his face, cooling his body as he strolled through the well guarded village.

'Perhaps a visit,' his thoughts began, 'To Riverwood after I leave. The village isn't far according to my map, so it would take perhaps a few hours to get there from here.' It wasn't a bad idea for certain, and may even prove useful as a base of operations of sorts. He was, after all, in Skyrim for a reason.

The tree branches swayed in the breeze, pulled along by the grasping hands of the wind. Birds flew overhead, all headed in the same direction besides a scant few who sat peacefully in their nests or on the rooftops. Rajin-Jo could almost swear he heard something in the distance, but he couldn't put a finger on what. “Odd,” Spoke he, a whisper to himself as he thought, “Perhaps a giant, strayed to far from the plains and sparse mountainsides. Unlikely though it seems.” Regardless, the noise was distant, and had since stopped entirely. Surely all was well. Today would be a good day for an execution.. Perhaps they'd let him hold the head?

With a sudden sense of foreboding and flair, the gates of Helgen flew open at the behest of a calling guard, and into town strode... Of course. The Thalmor Ambassador herself, haughty and mighty was she, or so she believed. Rajin-Jo hated the Thalmor, though never dared speak it. His people could grovel at their feet and kiss their shaved yellow buttocks all they pleased, but Rajin-Jo knew better. False saviors, murderers. A cult of heretics and foul men and women.

“Tullius!” The witch queen of the Skyrim Thalmor called, face firm in its expression of disgust. She looked almost piteous at her surroundings, at the humans just trying to go about their day. That was one thing the Beast Races and Races of Men had in common. In the end, the elves believed themselves above all of them. To them, the high elves in particular, both Man and Beast were nothing. Nay, worse than nothing. Once again the woman called, even as Tullius arrived through the gates himself, carts in tow, filled to the brim with, as Rajin-Jo had expected, Stormcloaks. And lo and behold- Ulfric Stormcloak himself. There was, however, something strange about the cart's occupants he noted.

For instance, one was in rags, dirt caking his face and tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Not a stormcloak. And for another, just across from a blonde man clad in the Bear's Armor... was an Argonian. His scales were black and gleaming, with sapphire eyes that shone with purpose and intent. The feathered crest atop his head seemed to swell and puff while his expression soured, possibly because of the blond nord saying something if the pointed stare was anything to go by. Those feathers were white, and he had them on more than just his head, with some poking from his tail and arms, and the open v-shape of his rag shirt. He was expressive, that Argonian, and calculating. Shame he was likely going to the block, just like everyone else.

Rajin-Jo would be pouncing on his scaled rear in a second if the man wasn't in chains.

He watched from afar, just beside the Inn now and hidden by a bush. The show would be interesting; the great and mighty Ulfric Stormcloak, supposed 'true' king of Skyrim, would see his head rolling this day. Heh, Rajin-Jo couldn't help but feel the need to chuckle at the thought.

One-by-one they were herded to surround the chopping block, and for a moment Rajin-Jo couldn't see Argonian man, who he'd overheard from the young Hadvar was named 'Stalks-The-Void' or his proper name Nererius if you prefer. Quite the saucy one, with a wicked grin and teeth as sharp as his wit.

Nererius. Hmm, what was it about the strange Argonian that caught Rajin-Jo's attention so?

As the head of the first stormcloak rolled, and Nererius was brought to the block to be beheaded, a violent roar echoed across the sky suddenly. Loud and terrifying it shook the very ground itself. Rajin-Jo's fur stood on end, and all within the plaza stood firm, weapons drawn.

“What was that!?” Cried the legate woman, others following suit with alarmed voices. The roar came again, closer this time, and the flapping of wings could be heard encroaching on the settlement. “Prepare for battle!”

And then, with a great and mighty cry, there was a dragon atop the tower. The black hide and fiery eyes of a great beast of terror. The creature opened its' mouth and looked to the sky, roaring loud and terribly as meteors began to fall in numbers from the heavens. It was as though oblivion itself had crawled its way to Nirn and unleashed the hordes upon them. Rajin-Jo made to run, to escaped with his life in the chaos, until he saw the Argonian struggling to stand, hands still bound. For a moment, the Khajiit thought, huffing with frustration.

“By the gods you best be worth the risk.” Whispered he to the wretched winds, and off he ran.


	2. Danger Afoot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise things will speed up once these guys make it out of helgen, I'm just keeping things purple and slow atm because I'm feeling a little ~dramatic~ u_u

It rained brimstone and fire. The sky was shrouded in ash and great red plumes of crackling flame, and all around them the stench of burning flesh. A vortex that spewed deadly stones lie above like the eye of an angry god, wishing death upon the mortals. To Rajin-jo, it almost felt like Akatosh himself was here to personally strike down each and every living thing in this town with his blazing fists. Focus, he had to focus.

The Argonian was struggling to stand, unable to catch his balance due to his hands being tied rather tightly, likely to prevent escape attempts using his claws. The humans could be clever on occasion, it seemed. Luckily for the Khajiit he made it to Nererius just as a loud, thundering roar let out over the cacophony of screams and popping wood. For a moment the Argonian seemed ready to maul Rajin-jo, his lizard pupils narrowed to thin lines and feathered crest standing on end. Of course, Rajin-jo was well versed in not giving a shit about unrestrained violence towards his person, and given the situation he couldn't well blame the poor man. He too was scared out of his hide that any moment that black beast would rain fire upon them, or take them up in its great maw to their doom.

Swiftly and with purpose Rajin-jo snapped the rope binding Nererius's hands and hoisted him to his feet, urging him in the direction the Khajiit had run from- only to find it blocked by rubble and burning debris. The Argonian, to his merit, had realized that Rajin-jo held no ill intent, and was gladly lead around like a skittish pup in hopes that he might yet survive this nightmare.

Any other time he might give a sharp quip about getting handsy, but doom loomed overhead in such a terrifying display that even he, noted to be quite the ill-timed comic, could see that it was very much Not The Time to be greeting his furry savior in such a way.

Just as Rajin-jo was about to panic, noting that there was no exit from the executioner's block at this point, the blond man from the cart grabbed onto them both and pulled them to safety. “You fools, what are you doing just standing in the middle of a dragon's fury like that?! You could have been killed!” He cried, closing the door to the tower they now found themselves in. Surrounding the small space there were several Stormcloak soldiers, and- oh Gods Be Cursed, the Bear himself survived the initial chaos. The Khajiit man could practically scream in displeasure if he wasn't sure that'd either lure the dragon, or disgruntle the small party of BearSkins with full power to kill both the beastmen if they so pleased.

“It is incredibly chaotic out there, is it not?” Spoke Nererius, a surprising lilt of propriety in his tone. “I am not afraid to admit that I quite nearly shed my scales from fear alone.”

The blond, or Ralof as Rajin had heard his name called prior to this disaster, replied with a concerned voice as he began up the stone steps. He ushered them up along with him as he spoke. “Whatever is going on, it's at least obvious of one thing: Dragons have returned to Skyrim,” It sent a shiver down the beastmen's spines at the foreboding tone Ralof used, a sense of dread settling over the small safe space amidst screams and death. “We are trying to figure out how to make it out of this mess, seeing if there is some passage we could find to get out out of this town and to safety. So far not much luck, but we'r- LOOK OUT!”

Just as it was said, Rajin-Jo registered the all-too-close roar- and then the monster crashed into the tower, knocking out a large chunk of the now crumbling wall and breathing fire down the stairs. The three men barely managed to dodge the licking flames as the red-eyed dragon detatched itself from the tower's side and flew off further down. A barrage of arrows could be seen hitting the beast, but to no avail. Not a one of them pierced its hide, Rajin-jo noticed with a gripping realization.

If this thing could not be killed, what were they to do? If there are other dragons, are they immune to damage as this deadly beast is? The thought scared him.

“There's the inn just below, if you leap down you should be able to make it past the dragon,” Spoke Ralof. “We'll find another way past and catch up with you further down if we can, but stay low. Maybe that thing won't see you if you stick to what little shadows are down there.”

Rajin-jo look abashed at the blonde Nord, nose curling in distaste. “This one might be feline in appearance, but Rajin-jo assures you that he does not take joy in jumping from crumbling towers into burning wood buildings, thank you kindly.”

Nererius appeared just as dubious about the suggestion, but nonetheless took the Nord's side. “There is no other way out from the ground, Khajiit, I do not believe we have much choice but to take the leap and hope we are spared death.”

“Rajin-jo thought you would say that, scale-ass.”

“Excuse you?” Nererius fumed, pupils once again thinned to slits in his rage. Rajin-jo, being one for equal amounts blasé reaction and self-preservation, merely sniffed at the Argonian man, before promptly leaping down onto the roof of the inn, and dropping inside, before Nererius could lunge at him. Of course he followed suit, not being willing to be left behind. The Argonian was rather miffed now however, and that surely would not bode well if Rajin-jo decided to keep antagonizing.

“Before you skin me, this one suggests we make it to safety first, yes? Rajin-jo did save your life after all, perhaps you could spare this poor Khajiit at least until freedom has found us again.”

Nererius growled, conceding for the time being. “Do not call me scale-ass again, and perhaps I will consider.”

“Very well, very well, this one will not call you that again, but Rajin suggests we get a move on, and swiftly. This one hears the beating of deathly wings nearby.” The Khajiit said in a lowered voice, taking the lead and hoping that they would survive this awful mess.


	3. Dragon's Breath and Tunnels

Fire engulfed the roof of the inn, heating the beastmen to an unbearable degree as they made their way to the other end of the building. The only way down that could be seen was a hole in the floor, blessedly free of fire that could possibly set Rajin-jo's fur alight, and the two wasted no time climbing down in an attempt to escape the encroaching flames. Even once downstairs the two could hear parts of the roof caving in with loud cracks, and ash fell down from the hole they passed through. Time was of the essence, and they couldn't stand still for too long if they wished to make it through this blazing inferno alive.

Sprinting for the door, both men heard people screaming, one voice being recognized as the imperial soldier who was calling out prisoner names earlier. Nererius grew nervous at the idea of running into a soldier at the time, but put aside his concerns long enough for he and the Khajiit to make it outside. Overhead the great dragon flew, screeching into the sky and raining fire upon the soldiers and civilians below. The sight of which the argonian would not soon forget. 

“Haming, you need to get out of there!” the soldier called out to the child, tone desperate and fearful for the young boy. The child in question, young Haming, was desperately trying to help his father stand, tears in his young eyes and fear in his voice. Over the sound of chaos they could hardly hear the soldier and with Haming farther away they could not quite make out what he said. But, all too fast, the dragon made its descent. The child made one last desperate plea to his downed father, who only smiled sadly in return, before he finally turned and ran. “That's it, you're doing great.” The soldier said half-heartedly, eyes still glued to the boy's father.

Then the dragon landed, and burnt the downed father to a crisp.

“Torolf, No!” Cried the Imperial Soldier, Haming crying out a desperate 'Father!' in return. An elderly man in iron armor kept hold of the child as they all hid behind a wall, while the dragon again took off to the skies.

“Hadvar what do we do now?” The old man asked, eyes trained above them. The soldier, Hadvar, replied solemly.

“Get Haming out of here, find your way to the gate and climb over if you must, just run!”

Rajin-jo stared at the unrecognizable corpse of a man once called Torolf, heart in his throat. His mind flashed with memories of death and fire, and his own desperate voice calling out for.. for... “Rajin...” Mother, his mother.. He could not remember her face, but her voice, she.. “RAJIN!” The khajiit snapped out of his trance, turning to Nererius with wide eyes. He shook in his boots, quite spooked. The argonian took notice, and calmed himself. “Hey,” He said “We're going to get out of here, okay? Hadvar here told us he knows a way around the dragon, through the keep.”

“I... Yes, yes Khajiit understands.. Let us go then, the sooner we are away from this beast, the better.” With that agreed, the three made their way to the keep. They passed behind desolate buildings, the dragon swooping down to perch upon the wall they hid against and burning yet another man before their very eyes. Rajin-jo was becoming less level-headed, but kept as much focus as he could on the task at hand. He was sure he'd be fine once they were out of danger's path. 

Quickly they ran, Hadvar taking lead and weaving them through rubble and bow-wielding soldiers. Past burnt bodies and strewn corpses. The voices were growing quieter now, with fewer survivors as either dragon or debris took their lives, or the scant few managed their escapes. Finally, with little time to spare, they found themselves outside the keep. Ralof, of course, had somehow gotten there first, and Hadvar was less than pleased to see him. Neither beastman payed their bickering any mind however, and Rajin-jo shouted above them.

“Is this really the time for arguments?! A dragon has attacked for the first time in what appears to be long enough they were considered mere myth, and you two fools choose to fight?! Let us escape together instead of committing to petty squabbles! This one is tired of the shenanigans!” And my, did that shut them up, hearing the Khajiit rage. Of course, he had a point. Their lives were in danger, and what good did it do either of them to continue letting their qualms get in the way of their survival at a time like this? Maybe it was best to just work together for the time being..

“Truce, Ralof?” Hadvar asked, holding a hand outstretched.

Ralof hesitated, but he, too, conceded. “Truce, Hadvar.”

Above them the dragon roared, jolting the quartet back into action. Hadvar ushered them into the barracks side of the Keep, stating that there would be weapons inside, and they all ran in as though death itself was biting at their heels. Given the circumstances, it quite nearly was.

“Where to go now, Khajiit wonders?” Rajin voiced, sparking to life a small orb of light in his palm. “We are within the keep, but to which way is the exit, Hadvar? This one wishes not to stay here until the dragon leaves.”

Hadvar shakes his head, pointing towards the gated entrance to the room. “We go through there, the keep comes out through a cave system, and that will take us out further down the hill towards Riverwood. It was intended to evacuate civilians in case of attack, but unfortunately we weren't prepared for a dragon.”

“When is anyone prepared for a dragon.” came Ralof's somber reply, as they heard more rumbling roars from outside.

“Khajiit says we keep moving, that thing could burst through a wall any moment.”

Nererius nods in agreement. “He's right, it burst right through the watchtower earlier, it could do the same here.”

“Damn,” Hadvar cursed, “Alright, lets keep moving then.”

The party of four made their way through, occasionally having to fight imperial and stormcloak alike, all taking one look at the group and declaring either Ralof or Hadvar traitors to their respective causes. It was an especially morose moment for the two men when they came down to the 'interrogation' room. The interrogator did not even bother to speak to them upon noticing Ralof, and the four faced off against the old sadistic man and his assistant.

While Nererius fought with a dagger, and the humans with swords and shields, Rajin-jo used magic. Simple spark spells, for simple foes, but his precision was a tad alarming.

The assistant came barreling at him with a hammer, to which Rajin-jo responded in kind with a swift kick to his midsection, barely scrambling away in time to avoid the hammer coming down upon him. He then stunned the larger man with a powerful shock to the head, and Nererius came to his aid with a stab to the man's back, clinging onto him with his powerful claws so the thrashing assistant could not knock him off. After a moment, he stopped struggling, the blood loss too much to bear, and he perished fast. Ralof and Hadvar finished off the elder Torturer at the same moment, and the four took a minute to breathe.

Ralof seemed distraught, holding his head in his hands. Hadvar, too, seemed less than happy, but he took steadying breaths and held his cool. The two beastmen did not say anything, but both knew that it had to be distressing to have to kill people they probably knew, maybe even fought alongside. For Hadvar this situation could end up especially deadly, if anything about their time in the keep got out. For Ralof it was much the same, but the likelihood of this information making it back to his superiors was much smaller by comparison, though not impossible.

One-by-one, they all finally calmed down from the fight, and began to search for supplies as they had done in other rooms. Hadvar and Ralof ignored each other for the most part, which was rather typical, but did not show any outward hostilities for the time being. Hadvar wandered closer to the cages in the room, and noticed a dead body inside. “Hey, Khajiit, come here a moment.”

“This one is called Rajin-jo, or Rajin for short. You may use his name, do not call me 'Khajiit' or 'cat'.” Spoke the Khajiit, still coming closer to see what the man wanted.

“Sorry, I won't do it again. But look here, do you think you could get it open? We might be able to use whatever the poor sod had on him.” Rajin-jo sniffed at the request, eyes narrowing in contempt.

“So, you think that since I am Khajiiti, that means that Rajin-jo can pick locks? Typical.”

Of course, Hadvar had the decency to look sheepish, but that didn't change the fact that he'd stereotyped Rajin. Nererius, witnessing what was happening, came over to try and defuse the situation. “I can pick locks.” He said, earning him a mixture of looks from the other three men in the room. “What? I was put on that cart for a reason, you know. But that's besides the point.”

With a flourish Nererius pulled out a knife that he acquired from the kitchen, and a lockpick, likely pilfered from the evidence chest in the corner of the room. “Do watch, I love to show off. At least, when I know I won't be arrested.” The argonian snarked, smirking with pride. The skill was useful for anyone in a pinch, of course, so neither of the other three men could really complain. They all gathered around to watch him work, and with little effort at all the lock was open and Nererius was inside, looting the body.

“Dagger, Mage clothes, a spell book-” Rajin-jo snatched it up with great glee, leaving Nererius to roll his eyes and rub his hand where the Khajiit's claws had caught his scales. “-Some coin, and a potion of magicka. Not much, but the coin might come in handy later. Most of this I suspect would be better suited for Rajin-jo, since he seems to be more magically adept than the rest of us.”

“Oh this one would be very pleased to take the magical items off your hands, indeed. Rajin-jo is in need of a new set of robes.”

The search continued for another full minute before they were made alert to the dragon again, the black beast's roars echoing far above. Hadvar pulled out his bow, face set in a grim line. “let's get out of here.” Said he, leading them through the hall of cells, and out the back. They all followed closely behind, keeping low and quiet. Rajin-jo listened to their surroundings, while Nererius kept a trained eye on everything.

To the group's luck, they made it through the remainder of the slowly deteriorating keep with little resistance, all the way up to the drawbridge that finished the transition from Keep, to cave. Rajin-jo watched the walls as they passed through, seeing the stonework shift from clean and dry, to wet and mossy, and finally to broken or unfinished cave wall. Sconces and torches were few and far between, with light coming from cracks above made ever greater by the ground itself shaking violently with every roar from the dragon in the sky.

They passed through a den of frostbite spiders, and by oblivion it was the least pleasant event for Rajin-jo since they made their escape into the keep. “Oh this is revolting!” He cried out, sending a burst of lightning hurtling towards the largest spider, his ears flat against his head and tail wrapped tightly around one leg in anxiety. Skyrim truly was nothing like Cyrodiil, being ever-cold and mountainous, and having giant spiders roaming about willy-nilly to boot!

In his moment of panic at the sight of foes he'd never faced before, behind him creeped another spider which he failed to notice. Rajin-jo had his attention focused forward, blasting any spiders he saw. Before he knew it, he was being pinned down, and-

“Rajin-jo!” Nererius yelled, ramming into the spider full-force and slicing it down its midsection before it had the chance to right itself. The spider let out a chittering cry as it perished, legs curling in on itself. Rajin-jo panted for a moment to catch his lost breath as he slowly stood. He turned to thank Nererius for saving him, only to catch his sour look. “You need to be more careful, fool. I figured you more careful than that.”

And oh, that just cemented it. Attractive or not, Rajin-jo was determined to make this scaled annoyance's life like oblivion itself came to life.

For the moment though, he held his tongue, and simply walked after Hadvar and Ralof, who were waiting for them at the other end of the den. They'd be out of here and towards Riverwood soon, then he'd have his fun.


End file.
